


Blood, Bats, and Blades

by M_Renoir



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Like temporary major character death though dw, Other, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, hopefully a different take on vampire AUs, im hesitant to say lovers, nothing sexy here don’t worry, set in upward
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-04-22 17:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14313618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_Renoir/pseuds/M_Renoir
Summary: To put it simply, Spy had no idea what he was getting into. Neither did Engie.Vampire Spy and human Engie, set pretty much in canon verse but also not really...





	1. Rumor Has It

    The rumors had been flying around RED for weeks now. The original BLU Spy, who had disappeared under mysterious circumstances, was to be replaced with a new one. A new backstabbing snake, in Engie’s opinion, made no difference at all. Either way, the brief period during which he could enjoy not having his guns messed with was over. To the rest of RED team, the buzz of a new enemy filled the chatter at the dinner table, on the couch in front of the TV, and even the chair next to the operating table that the Medic occupied.

    “Hey, Truckie,” the Sniper began by way of greeting. Engie looked up from the science mag he was rereading for what felt like the hundredth time and offered him a tired smile.

    “Howdy, Slim,” he nodded. “Still thinkin’ ‘bout that new Spy?”

    The Sniper shrugged, opting to flop down on the couch next to him with a grunt. “Jus’... Dunno, worried. That last spook was a right pain in the arse,” he chuckled darkly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’ really look forward to seeing a new one anytime soon.”

    Engie chuckled good naturedly and set his magazine down. “We’ll be alright, don’t worry. This new Spy’ll probably be real green, since the transfer’s pretty unexpected. Don’t think too much on it, alright? No use losing sleep when you’ll need all your concentration tomorrow.” The Sniper grunted in response, pulling his hat lower over his eyes.

    Course, it was technically a big deal. Engie just didn’t see why he should worry so much about the details of a new spy, considering the only thing that mattered was how he’d be able to fight him. He didn’t want to bother with the intricacies of what his eye color would be, how tall he was, and what nationality he was. The current bet on the team was between the Spy being French, like the last Spy, or British, like James Bond. Engie had always amusingly entertained the idea of a British spy, and thus bet a week of dish cleaning duty against the Sniper, who was adamantly insistent on the Spy being French. It wasn’t that he had a lot to lose, all things considered, as he stuck around to help with the dishes most nights anyway as the rest of the team didn’t seem to want to ever do a good job of it. He personally disliked having stains from last night’s dinner mixed in with his breakfast waffles, but he wasn’t so sure about the rest of his teammates.

    The next day, as they prepared for battle, the Engineer decided to bring along his trusty shotgun and pistol instead of the other weapons--namely his Rescue Ranger and Wrangler--which he had been favoring while there was no Spy acting as a perpetual thorn in his side.

    “The match has begun. Move!” the Administrator shrieked imperiously as the grates opened to release RED team into the field. Engie dropped a teleporter entrance at the spawn gate and began legging it as fast as he could to the front lines. They were defending against a bomb today, and there was no time to waste during setup. There were buildings to place and BLUs to shoot, and he couldn’t do the second if he wasn’t fast enough with the first. Setting the dispenser behind a wall near where the Heavy and Medic were preparing, Engie got ready for a busy day of fighting.

\---

    As far as base changing went, the BLU Spy’s went fairly smoothly. He had previously been stationed further north, so a transition from rain to desert heat would be the only main difficulty. His teammates were fairly standard, the usual bunch of rowdy mercenaries and ne’er-do-well sociopaths. The only benefit of the desert’s perpetual heat was the warming effect it would have on him, letting him burn less calories on keeping himself warm. It would make his food last longer, anyway.

    The rest of the moving in process was simple. All he had to do was move his luggage (comprised mainly of clothing, expensive-looking bottles, and books) to the room the previous Spy appeared to have decorated quite neatly. Everyone called it the smoking room, and the near-overwhelming stench of stale cigarettes that assaulted his nose made sure he remembered the name. The room itself was furnished with everything a Spy could ask for; expensive upholstery, bookshelves still half-stocked with books, and no doubt hidden chambers. He could explore everything in detail later.

    Underneath the expensive-looking mahogany desk, the Spy found a mini-fridge, emptied of whatever may have lain inside before. He placed his bottles inside before taking out an ornate hip flask and taking a small sip. Hm… Stale. The trip had been a long one, and he didn’t dare risk refilling his flask on the train for fear of spilling its precious contents. However, there was enough in it to last him through dinner, so the Spy decided to pocket the flask again. Speaking of which, the Soldier had come thundering down the hallway outside, hollering for everyone to show up to dinner now, or face the wrath of Sun Tsu himself. Spy wasn’t entirely sure how that would happen, considering Sun Tsu was long dead, but he figured that on the first day of being with the team, he should endeavour to not anger any of his teammates. He headed over to eat dinner, even if the food and drink would taste like little more than cardboard and flat water to him.

    “‘Ey, look who finally decided to show his face,” were the first words the Spy heard, coming from the BLU Scout, who was sitting at the table and impatiently tapping his fingers as he waited for that night’s meal to be served. “I’d give you a welcome, but looks like you already made yourself at home.” The Spy ignored the Scout for the most part, seating himself at the far end of the table, closer to the Heavy who he deemed to be fairly calm.

    “Hey,” the Scout continued, a little irritated at being ignored, “I’m talkin’ here!”

    “So I’ve noticed,” Spy replied nonchalantly, unfolding his napkin and placing it in his lap. The Scout frowned and was about to make further comment when the Pyro stepped in with the food.

    “Mmph mmph!” they announced happily, setting down steaming bowls of what looked and smelled like a reasonable facsimile of beef stew. With the rations that Mann Co gave them, no one was ever quite sure if the beef really was beef, even if it seemed to taste alright to BLU’s human employees. The Spy’s prickly responses to the Scout’s attempts at socialization were rapidly forgotten as the young man dug into his food. The rest of the team sat down and ate, of course with the ever-present loud banter that seemed to come with working for BLU. Spy allowed himself to feel a little content. It seemed that his life here really wouldn’t be too different from his previous team.

    Soon, however, he excused himself from the table, before his suit became the next casualty in the food fight Scout and Soldier were threatening to start. Secure in the privacy of his room, Spy refilled his flask before going to bed.

    Morning seemed to come far too soon, the Spy mourned, as the Soldier’s strident voice woke him at 6 am sharp. No one seemed too eager to start the day, particularly in this manner. The team slowly filtered into the dining room to eat breakfast, then to the resupply room to prepare for the day’s battle.

The first battle after a short break was always the hardest for Spy. He had a new map to get accustomed to, new teammates with different experiences and personalities, and most importantly, new enemies to figure out. Mainly, he needed to know who he could easily harass. Past experience had taught him by now that his easiest targets are distracted, alone, and less-than-equipped to deal with him in close quarters fights. As the battle raged around him, the Spy crept invisibly from ammo pack to ammo pack, replenishing his cloak as he travelled. The map was a fairly long one, and he took his time getting acquainted with it, learning escape routes, finding ammo and health, and noticing patterns in enemy behavior. The Sniper tended to sit in a small cubby, a good but very secluded sniping spot, too difficult for REDs to help him if he were to get in trouble. A good opportunity to strike, at least in the BLU Spy’s mind. He slowly picked his way up to the isolated perch. Just then, as if luck had not already blessed him enough that day, his own Soldier decided to appear and make a nuisance of himself for the Respawning REDs, suitably distracting the Sniper long enough for the Spy to sink his knife between the RED’s shoulder blades. The coppery scent of fresh blood washed over the Spy, who licked his lips and took a moment to retreat into the shadows and drink from his flask. Staler blood flowed over his lips, and he winced with distaste. A shame, really, but if he was caught lapping blood off of someone he just killed… The chances of someone happening upon him right now was low, but he still could not take the risk of staying too long. Besides, he remembered, bodies disappear in a few seconds as the person respawns. The Spy stowed the flask back into an inner pocket and cloaked, stealing down from the sniper’s perch to return to patrolling for an opportune target.

\---

    The day had gone surprisingly smoothly for Engie, all things considered. Inevitably, he was sent to Respawn a time or two, but so far, no sign of smoking disguises or blue suits. He considered himself lucky, and prepared for the worst. He was busy getting ammo from the supply cabinet when the Sniper respawned, cursing.

    “Somethin’ wrong there, slim?” the Texan asked, glancing back at the Sniper. “Nasty death?”

    “Spook’s finally gotten around to killin’ people,” the Sniper grumbled, scratching the stubble on his cheek. “Jus’ a bit of a surprise. It’s nothin’ too bad.” Engie nodded sympathetically, and made a mental note to--

    “Spy’s sappin’ my sentry!” he shouted, the sudden realization washing over him. He always had something of a sixth sense when it came to his buildings, knowing when they were being sapped by Spies. It had gotten him out of trouble on more than one occasion, so he had stopped questioning how he developed that sense long ago. He charged out of the respawn room, shotgun in hand, ready to show the Spy he wasn’t one to be messed with.

\--

    Sapping the sentry was almost child’s play for the Spy. The Engineer had gone bumbling off somewhere, as the stocky man was bound to do, and Spy took that moment of opportunity to place a sapper on the sentry. He took a few shots with his revolver for good measure. Footsteps sounded on the stairs leading up to the ruined remains of the sentry, a blur of RED appearing at the doorway before the Spy had time to fully cloak. _Merde_.

    “Spy!” The Frenchman heard the RED Engineer shout. “There’s a spy creepin’ around here!” The aforementioned Spy gritted his teeth and pulled out his knife, his gun useless in close quarters like this. Deciding to take matters into his own hands, the Frenchman darted forward, too close for the Engineer to use any of his weapons. The RED stumbled backwards, slamming into a wall, seemingly surprised by the Spy’s sudden rush forward. Good. He leaned in for the kill, a clean stab through the ribs…

    At least, that’s what it was supposed to be. Up close now, without the distraction of the smoking remains of the sentry mixed with the scents and sounds coming from outside, the Spy’s nose was clobbered both literally and figuratively. Literally by the wooden wall that he smashed face first into and figuratively by the Engineer’s scent. Every human had a unique scent, some more pleasant than others, at least for vampires. Spy knew as much, which was why he tried to avoid close contact like this. Most of the time, if he caught a whiff of someone particularly tasty-smelling, he could ignore it with a sip from his trusty flask. But up this close, with no other option but to _remain_ this close… It was almost too much.

    Strangely enough, upon closer inspection, the RED didn’t smell like anything particularly special. There was the scent of machine oil that clung to both him and his little toys, the tangy smell of metal that the Spy could almost taste, a hint of the standard issue soap, a tiny trace of aftershave. Beneath it all, was the Engineer’s own unique scent, mixed in with a healthy dose of sweat and fear. There was nothing extraordinary to this array of smells that could make every instinct in the Spy light up with the need to kill and to drink. The flask in his pocket seemed a million miles away, now that he was literally inches away from a bare neck. He was close enough, in the perfect position to just bite down…

    During the Spy’s brief lapse in attention, the Engineer managed to work his hands between their bodies and push the BLU off, staggering away from the wall and back towards the main doorway. The sounds of more footsteps sounded behind him as his teammates became alerted to the ongoing struggle in the room. Having gained enough space to move, the Engineer drew his oversized wrench, ready to cave the Spy’s head in. Spy had to think fast, or he wouldn’t escape with his life. Making the executive decision that continuing to live would benefit him more than risking his life to end the Engineer’s, the Spy decided to escape rather than fight. He darted backwards and fumbled to press a button on his invis watch.

    “Au revoir, laborer,” he couldn't help but quip, giving the Engineer a jaunty wave before his body faded from view. The Spy vaulted out the window as the Pyro showed up at the scene behind the Engineer, clearly angry and ready to bathe the room in flames. Even though he technically said he would see the RED again, the Spy wasn't so sure as he ran to a safe spot deeper in RED territory. It would be dangerous to stay so close to the Engineer. The generator he found himself standing next to hummed and beeped as if in agreement. The French vampire had managed to avoid drinking directly from the bottle, so to speak, for months now. He couldn't afford to break his streak just because someone who happened to be an enemy of his turned out to smell so appealing. He would just have to resist the urges and sneak in extra blood bags with each month’s shipments. With his mind sorted out with logic, the Spy composed himself, readied a disguise, and snuck back into the fray. 


	2. Turning Tables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With only a few minutes left on the clock, can Spy pull off the win? Or will Engie fight him off at the last minute?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh how the tables have tabled. How the turns have turned. How the turns have tabled. Oh... How the tables have turned.  
> I also try to write fight scenes. This chapter has some blood in it (of course) and death? Well, Respawning anyway. Nothing in super gruesome detail, but I do talk for awhile about blood this, blood that... Basically, canon-typical violence finally appears.

With only a few minutes left on the clock, things looked dire for BLU team. RED had managed to hold onto the last point for the past ten minutes, and was looking to continue holding it if nothing else happened. Engie was feeling pretty good about himself at the moment. He had set up inside a small alcove just outside spawn and with a clear view of the payload from above. Engie loved this spot for a lot of reasons, although the primary reason was that it allowed his sentry gun to fire at anything that came near the cart from almost any direction. The BLU Soldier had taken it upon himself to harass him at any opportunity, but for the most part, RED had managed to keep the rockets away from Engie’s sentry while the sentry returned fire. 

Engie whistled cheerily to himself as he tweaked a knob on his sentry gun, already thinking about going back to base to a hot dinner and the projects waiting on his workbench. There was a blueprint he had been slowly chipping away at, a revolutionary new concept that used the sun to power cars. 

“Now wouldn’t that just be the darnedest thing,” he murmured fondly, patting his sentry lightly with one hand. The sentry beeped in return, perhaps to assure him. That had to just be in his head though. He knew the sentry was programmed to beep every few seconds as it scanned for enemies. “It could go as far as you need, so long as the sun is out, and probably even more if you had a battery handy.” The sentry beeped again and turned to fire down at the BLU Scout, who had peeked around the corner before quickly retreating. Engie nonchalantly pulled some ammo from his dispenser and replace the spent bullets. Having said his piece, he resumed whistling, content to resume his thoughts internally. 

By the time he felt the knife in his back, it was too late. 

“Dagit nagit, nabit dagit!” A frustrated shout echoed from the dim Respawn room as the Engineer heard the final distressed beeps of his sentry gun before it exploded. He rushed to get out, stumbling slightly as he sprinted up the stairs. Maybe the Spy was still there so he could give him a piece of his mind in the form of a bullet to the brain. 

“One minute left in the mission,” the Administrator announced over the PA as Engie raced back up the stairs to his ruined buildings. Maybe he could still rebuild if there was enough metal left over… 

“Dang it, you sneaky sonuva--” A rocket exploded near him, forcing Engie to jump behind a pile of crates. The BLU Spy was nowhere to be seen, although Engie was fairly sure he could still smell the distinctive scent of cigarette smoke lingering in the air. Or maybe that was just smoke from the rocket blast. It was sometimes a bit hard to tell, with how noxious both smells were. Another blast shook the battlements, this time a little too close to Engie for his comfort. The rumbling and shaking displaced one of the crates, making it--and an unseen someone--tumble onto Engie’s head. For once, that yellow construction helmet seemed to be of good use beyond aesthetic purpose. 

“Oof!” The air escaped his lungs as he smacked against the ground. Pain flared from where the edge of the crate dug into his back, fortunately not hard enough to break anything. Almost lost in the clatter was the sound of someone else getting the wind knocked out of them as they unexpectedly took a great fall. Ignoring the pain, Engie tried to scramble to his feet, pushing splinters and pieces of crate off of himself. Nothing was broken, probably, just bruised. 

“Spy!” The strangled cry escaped his lips, almost on instinct. Whenever someone made a sound and he wasn’t aware that anyone but himself was around, his first thoughts went to calling out the presence of the BLU Spy. There was the faint sound of leather shoes squeaking as they tried to find purchase, and the sound of cloth shifting as the Spy got to his feet. Engie wasn’t completely sure where these sounds were coming from, only that he could just barely hear them over the pounding blood in his ears. One hand fumbled for the shotgun hanging at his side, and the other reached out to steady himself against the ground. He was going to give that backstabbing snake a piece of his mind. 

A blue silhouette flickered momentarily as the Spy scrambled to his feet, clearly distressed and definitely caught off guard. The BLU Soldier must not have realized that his own Spy was so close by before he fired off those rockets. Engie aimed his shotgun at where he thought the Spy was and… Blam! The gunshot rang out, the RED already preparing to fire a second shot as he heard a pained gasp and the splatter of blood hitting the wall. A hit! He frantically scanned the scene before him, straining his eyes behind his goggles to try and find the Spy. If anything, he should be able to see the blood from the Spy’s wounds, or hear the sound of the Spy attempting escape. 

The telltale sound of a body slumping against the ground and the sudden appearance of a blood splatter against the wall made Engie whirl and fire again. The ringing sound of the gunshot joined the pounding of blood in his ears. The Spy materialized soon after, the cloak fading to reveal his dead body. The Engineer let out a shuddering breath, reaching to reload his shotgun. 

“Gotcha,” he muttered with some degree of satisfaction. He strolled over and kicked the Spy’s prone foot, just to make sure he was really dead. One could never be too careful around spies. No one ever knew if they were really dead or not, but Engie was fairly sure in this case. 

“Mission ends in thirty seconds,” the Administrator’s cold voice rang out over the loudspeaker again. 

“Aw, hell--” Engie cursed, scrambling to collect himself and start rebuilding. There wouldn’t be time to get anything more than a level one sentry up, but as long as he could build  _ something _ , as long as he could just deter the BLUs for a few... More... Seconds. The RED Scout let out a string of taunting curses as he leaped over the railing right next to Engie and went hurtling towards the cart, which was slowly but surely moving forward. The BLU Heavy and Medic were both on the cart, holding it as best they could. Engie had to hurry. He rushed back into the Respawn room to get more metal from the supply cabinet. On the way, he also made sure his weapons were all loaded. This could get messy quick. 

“Mission ends in ten seconds!” the Administrator shrieked. Time seemed to pass too quickly as Engie scrambled out the bottom door of Respawn, leaving his level one sentry to the mercy of the hail of bullets and explosives. 

“Five!” The cart paused briefly before sliding slowly backwards, down the ramp that led to the pit. Engie’s heart skipped a beat. “Four!” A streak of BLU seemed to materialize by the cart and begin pushing it up again. “Three!” The RED Soldier let out a whoop as the BLU Scout on the cart was turned to giblets by a rain of rocket fire. “Two!” A faint whoosh behind him. “One!” The hairs on the back of Engie’s neck stood on end as he whirled around. “Overtime!” The cart was still right at the edge. BLU had five more seconds to push, and Engie was faced again by the BLU Spy, his face twisted with a strange mix of hunger and desperation. 

“Sp--” The air was knocked out of Engie’s lungs as the Spy lunged, pushing past his defenses and shoving the RED’s shotgun aside. There wasn’t much he could do but desperately try to push the Spy off. Blood flew, and a sudden pain blossomed in Engie’s upper arm. Five seconds! He just had to hold out for five seconds! The BLUs couldn’t possibly cap right now. The BLU Spy was the only one close enough to push the bomb the last few feet into the pit, but there he was, sparring with the Engineer. He just had to hold him here. A little belatedly, the Spy seemed to realize that the time spent dueling with the Engineer could have been better spent pushing the cart. 

“Success!” the Administrator announced for RED, while simultaneously, BLU heard, “You’ve failed me…” The Spy’s weapons suddenly disappeared, and Engie felt the usual surge of energy that came with winning. 

“Look how the tables have turned, boy,” he grinned. The Spy seemed too shocked to move, so Engie capitalized on that momentary indecision to shove the BLU off of him. He wondered how best to get back at the BLU. After all, it wasn’t every day that he found the BLU essentially at his mercy. There were lots of things he wanted to do, mostly involving some kind of grisly revenge or some choice words. But now that he was here, he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. Shooting him would be a bit… Anticlimactic. Punching him to death, while satisfying, would probably be more bloody and time-consuming than it was worth. Plus, even though the BLU lacked weapons, he could still run. Speaking of which, it seemed that the shove had knocked the Spy out of whatever funk he had fallen into. 

“Hey, get back here!” Engie yelled at the Spy’s receding back, cocking his shotgun. Indecision, it seemed, was going to be his enemy here. Perhaps just shooting him would be the best idea for now, maybe with a bit of taunting. The RED gritted his teeth and followed the Spy up the stairs. 

\---

The Spy found himself increasingly frustrated with himself. During the remainder of the battle, his mind kept wandering back to the Engineer, and in turn, his feet kept wandering to the wrong end of a flamethrower. It seemed like after his first little run-in with the Pyro, the monstrosity had taken to getting some kind of petty revenge against the Spy. Unexpectedly being burnt to death has never been a particularly pleasant experience, nor will it ever be. His earlier streak of good luck, perhaps due to unprepared enemies, seemed to have vanished into thin air. As a result, BLU team struggled to push past the well-entrenched RED defenses. Yet with only a few minutes left on the clock, the Spy realized, he had to do something. Especially about that sentry gun sitting above the entrance to the final point. Most especially that. He dreaded going there. The RED Engineer… Everything seemed to come back to him today, didn’t it? The BLU team could still try to build an uber to push, but right now, he would be fastest in breaking the RED’s defense. Although the BLU Heavy and Medic would be coming in soon, fresh from Respawn, but too late to build enough uber to successfully push past the sentry gun. This was the only way. Clutching his knife a little more tightly and taking a swig from his flask just to calm his nerves and the hunger that nudged him from the back of his mind, the Spy slowly made his way up to the sentry nest. 

Sneaking up to the Engineer, it seemed, would be the only hard part. More than once, he nearly bumped into a RED coming out of Respawn. Each time, he managed to slide out of the way just before the RED noticed or ran right into him. Finally, the end was in sight. He heard the sentry fire down at something, and the Engineer whistling to himself. Using the sound of the Dispenser to mask his decloak, the Spy slipped up behind the Engineer, holding his breath both in anticipation and to lessen the effect of the man’s scent. There was no time for silly distractions. There was a cart to push and a rapidly shortening time to do it in. The Engineer let out a grunt as the Spy drove the knife home in the middle of his back, pushing all the air out from his lungs. Reaching quickly for his sapper and moving quickly around the sentry gun, he managed to avoid being shot at as the sentry swivelled to try and lock onto him. 

“Don’t worry, your little toys will join you soon,” the Spy grinned, even though there would be no one around to hear his little taunt. Nonetheless, it was satisfying to say. 

Glancing around, he realized that BLU team was starting to push up again. With the sentry gone, the last point was ripe for the taking. There wasn’t much else he could do right now but continue patrolling around the RED ramparts, which were looking to stay empty for some time as RED team Respawned. Cloaking again, the Spy clambered up the pile of crates he was near, hoping that being slightly out of the way would let him get away with staying here for a little longer. If the Engineer came back and began to set up again, Spy decided, he would be in for a bit of a nasty surprise. There was no way he was going to let another sentry get set up here, not with so little time left for BLU to win. For good measure, and to mentally prepare himself, the vampire took a sip from his flask, feeling the blood slide thickly down his throat. He licked his lips to rid himself of the lingering taste. Stale blood tasted exactly like it sounded like it should taste: stale, with a faint taste of rust. His teeth ached, but he had promised himself that there would be no biting at this base. There was no need to have a repeat of what happened before.

“One minute left in the mission!” the Administrator shouted over the PA. Spy figured Engineer would be back soon, if the faint echo of cursing from the RED Respawn room wasn’t evidence enough. The BLU readied his knife and made sure his gear was in its place. He still had enough cloak to last a few more seconds, enough to use to try to get the jump on the Engineer as the RED came stumbling back up to put a sentry down. 

Unfortunately, it seemed the BLU Soldier had other plans for the two of them. It looked like the numbskull had decided to harass the RED Engineer as well, but in a far louder and more-likely-to-cause-collateral damage way. The crates tilted precariously under the booming explosions and the Spy’s extra weight. Yet at the same time, if the Spy tried to say anything, he would immediately be exposed. Perhaps it would be best to leave as fast as possible, surprised be damned. He heard Engineer grunt as another rocket exploded nearby, and decided that now would be the best time to bolt. 

A sickening crunch signaled the crate’s demise as it collapsed under the Spy’s shifting weight, bringing both crate and vampire down with a crash on top of the Engineer. Air whooshed out of Spy’s lungs as he fell to the floor, rolling to try and lessen the impact. The Soldier, needing to reload, retreated, but the damage was done. All thoughts of silence and sneaking gone, Spy scrambled desperately to get to his feet before anyone noticed. Unfortunately, his enemies were just as spy-aware as they were all day. 

The shotgun bullets felt more like a particularly hard punch at first. Spy gasped in pain as he stumbled back from the force of the shot. His vision swam as his body struggled to keep up with the onslaught of sensations, from the ringing in his ears to the pounding of his heart and the warm blood now soaking into his suit and his hands darting up to press futilely against the wound, the warm wetness against his gloves--

His next step gave way as his knees failed him, though the feeling of slamming against the wall was faint, as if his mind was seeing everything from the end of a dark tunnel. Blood splattered against the wall. 

Another shot. 

Darkness. 

The wooden walls of BLU’s spawn room were the first thing Spy saw again. Instinctively, he reached to touch the place where he was shot, finding, as usual, simply the smooth fabric of his suit and solid flesh beneath. Even after so many times, he couldn’t get used to Respawning. 

“Mission ends in thirty seconds!” the Administrator screeched, startling the Spy from his reverie. Lighting a cigarette on the way, Spy sprinted out of the spawn room. If he hurried, he could still make it in time. 

Cloaking just before turning the corner, the Spy ran the long way around the bomb pit, dodging bullets and explosions as both teams redoubled their efforts to win the battle. All he had to do was get the height advantage. From there, he could act. 

Quickly flipping through his disguise kit, Spy hid just at the top of the stairs outside the RED spawn. The RED Scout would be a good enough disguise, and with all the mayhem outside, no one was liable to notice the Scout running perhaps a bit slower than usual. 

Just then, he saw a flash of red and yellow as the Engineer left his post to scramble down with his shotgun out to help with stopping the payload. Spy moved, catlike and fluidly, to follow behind the Engineer, knife poised. Right before he struck, something made the Engineer turn around. Whether it was dumb luck or intuition, the Spy didn’t know. What he did know is that as the Administrator’s strident voice announced the beginning of overtime, the Engineer turned around right before he was going to strike and pointed his shotgun at the Spy. He lunged forward, running more on instinct than on any conscious thought. Get closer. Get past Engineer’s guard. Get too close for him to use his shotgun. Close, where knives work best. 

His knife found purchase on the Engineer’s arm, blood arcing through the air. Blood. Spy could feel his fangs lengthening in his mouth, and struggled to hold back from lunging forward for a bite. He was hungrier than he remembered feeling moments ago. It ate at him from the inside, freezing him in place, masking the sound of the his team’s failure, dulling the impact of the shove that pushed him away from the Engineer. 

With the object of temptation so far away now, the Spy’s head cleared slightly. Faintly registering that his weapons were gone, he turned tail and ran blindly, clipping a corner as he went. He hadn’t expected this feeling. He hadn’t expected to be immobilized just by the scent of fresh blood, just from this one silly little man who had the misfortune of smelling  _ great _ . All Spy could think about was to get someplace safe, someplace private, where he could drink from his flask. At least if he got a little more blood into his system, he could remain human-passing. His jaw would stop hurting, his teeth would shrink back to normal, and he at least wouldn’t die looking… Well, abnormal. This was his secret. He had to keep it. 

\---

Footsteps stopped, just above him. Engie tightened his grip on the shotgun, careful not to squeeze the trigger just yet. He’d just shoot the Spy. Maybe give the sneak a good ol’ one-liner just before he died. If he was any good example, he knew most of the mercenaries liked to taunt their opponents after killing them, at least verbally, if not with some physical movement. 

This time, he didn’t stumble at all on the stairs, which he was glad for. It would’ve been incredibly embarrassing to trip on the way to collect this well-earned victory. Turning the corner at the top of the stairs, he saw the Spy bring a silver flask to his lips. 

“Alcohol ain’t gonna make this any less painful, snake,” Engie growled. The Spy jerked in surprise and turned to face the RED just as Engie pulled the trigger on his shotgun. The shot rang out. Blood flew. A silver flask arced through the air and clattered to the ground, splattering whatever was inside on the ground. Engie strode triumphantly closer to inspect his handiwork. 

“I--The flask--” a slurring, rasping voice gasped. Engie glanced at the BLU’s face. 

It was contorted with desperation and… Hunger? There was something off about the BLU’s eyes. They were almost shiny, glowing like a cat’s. That can’t be right. Before the Engineer could properly investigate, the Spy’s eyes dimmed, and the body went limp. The stench of blood filled the air, mixing with the tangy scent of gunpowder and smoke. Engineer wiped his brow with the back of his left hand, letting out a deep sigh of relief. But… Alcohol, for some reason, was not in the mix of smells. Curious, he wandered closer to the fallen flask and the puddles of dark, reddish liquid that spilled from it. 

Now where did all that blood come from?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, Spy done fucked up... Pretty badly. B a d l y. But does Engie know anything? Does he care enough to find out? Does he dare find out? Well, you can find out in the next chapter, maybe. Maybe. Because next chapter, I get to tackle the worst thing ever, worse than writing fight scenes: dialogue. 
> 
> Also, an explanation for blood: Blood to vampires is a bit like coffee to me. It smells amazing. Looks pretty palatable. Tastes? Fucking awful. Well, some vampires get used to the taste and start to enjoy it, but it can be hard for younger ones to get used to at first. That's why they often mix it with other substances like milk or sugar or whatever (I can't imagine milk and sugar tasting good with blood, but maybe that's just me. Iunno. I'm not a real vampire, I just look like one). Spy's metal though, so he drinks it straight.
> 
> And also fun tidbit: technically, if the ratio between vampires and humans is the same as that of animals, the total number of vampires in the world in 1970 can only be about 300 million according to the rules of biology, which is that the predator is usually about 10% of the prey (predator being the vampires and prey being the humans). Of course, this isn't always true as the food chain is very complicated, but in theory, since human blood is technically the only blood vampires can consume... Well, let's just say at most, 300 million. The actual number is likely less, since people tend to uh,, kill them off pretty fast. Plus, with the way this AU works, the vampire population should actually be decreasing as technology advances, since baby vamps aren't born with a lot of powers (they're really just humans with sharp teeth and a taste for blood) and gain powers as they grow. Therefore, they need to be taken care of for several decades by older vampires until they can develop some powers of their own. Developed powers include super strength, hypnosis, venom, and increased healing. They're not the only ones, obviously, but they're certainly the most common. Within these powers, there are a lot of special categories and such, but that's too complicated. I won't go too much further in detail, but I'm not sure when this exposition will happen in the story, so I'll put it here for now.


	3. Assimilation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spy's looking around the base, Engie lost the bet to Sniper, and whatever could the BLU Medic and Heavy be up to?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this universe, the existence of vampires aren’t common knowledge. I’ll leave you to draw your own conclusions about that, but just remember: what I know as the author is more than what you know as a reader is more than what Engie knows as a character.

Blood, so much of it. Far too much to have just come from the Spy’s body. Engie bent down, squinting at the flask. He gingerly poked it with the end of his shotgun barrel. Was that snake drinking  _ blood _ from this flask? Spies were weird, he was well aware, but not  _ this _ weird as far as he knew. If anything, sipping blood would be something he’d chalk up to being a Sniper or Pyro thing (although he definitely did not want to think about his sweet firebug guzzling blood). It was probably just animal blood, right? He really hoped he hadn’t come across a truly odd Spy. Course, he’s heard rumors of the terrors of Brutals, mercs who revel in mindless violence. He has never heard of them drinking blood though, even if it sounds horrifying enough to be their cup of tea (pun intended). 

 

But blood… 

 

It never ceased to amaze Engie with all the strange people RED and BLU seemed to be able to dig up. He shook his head and straightened, casting a nervous glance at the Spy’s body. Whatever the Spy was drinking--and why he was drinking--it gave him the willies. Holstering his shotgun, Engie slowly made his way back to base. Either way, it seemed that he owed the Sniper a week’s worth of dish-duty. Turns out, the Spy was French, weird drinking habits and all. 

 

\--- 

 

Spy woke up to the glare of the Respawn room back at base, one hand immediately darting to the pocket where his flask was. Thankfully, Respawn was programmed to restore his items to him, although it was completely empty of any blood he had initially filled it with. Brilliant. He was going through his blood supply at an astronomical rate. There was no way he would last until the next supply shipment if he kept drinking like this, but he also could not risk going hungry for too long at a new base, with all its new surprises, new teammates, and new enemies. Perhaps he could look into procuring blood from animals, but he would rather remain fairly human in both appearance and feeling. After all, drinking human blood is what kept vampires humanoid and animated, if not truly alive. Drinking animal blood, while enough to sustain a vampire for awhile, can have a lot of side effects. They become feral, dangerous and animalistic. Spy sighed, subconsciously rubbing the side of his neck where the scar of an old bite mark lay. The mask prevented him from actually touching his neck, of course, perhaps for the better. 

 

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he strolled to the lockers, where the rest of his team was busy tucking away their weapons and jeering at each other. 

 

“Man, I can’t believe we lost today!” Scout was complaining. “I was the only one at the cart in the last few seconds! Where were you guys? Busy playing patty cake or something? Jeez--” Spy tuned him out. To him, Scout was as loud as he was meaningless. However, speaking of the last few moments… 

 

“RED Engineer had sentry,” Heavy reminded Scout. “Was small sentry, but enough to stop us while we push.” The Engineer… Had he seen anything? Spy remembered with a jolt the last few panicked seconds before he had been sent through Respawn. The flask, flying out of his hands. Reaching for it in the final moments before the world faded around him, the Engineer walking towards the fallen flask and its precious, spilled contents. Spy groaned internally and really wished there was a feasible way for him to kick himself without his teammates noticing. His brief lapse in judgement could’ve cost him his cover. BLU would have to move him again, possibly wipe the memories of the RED Engineer, or worse, kill one or both of them. There was still enough blood left in the flask at the time to raise suspicion. The Engineer was a clever man, surely he would have deduced that something was suspicious, if not outright discovering Spy’s true nature. He’d have to do something about this. No loose ends was his motto as a Spy, and Engineer had become a loose end. Somehow, he needed to ensure that the Engineer either comes to the wrong conclusion or does not get to express his conclusions to others. Somehow. He just needed to keep his vampirism a secret. Who knew what the REDs would try to do if they found out? 

 

“--ault, fatty!” Scout was shouting as Spy’s thoughts returned to the world around him. “Because it sure as hell ain’t mine.” Heavy appeared to simply put up with the verbal abuse, ignoring Scout for the most part. Spy figured this was a good time to leave the locker room, before fists joined the insults flying around the room. He didn’t notice the Medic’s gaze following him as he left, the doctor’s piercing eyes lingering briefly at the doorway he exited through. 

 

Stepping into the relative calm (and safety) of his smoking room, Spy collapsed into the chair behind the massive office desk that the previous Spy had clearly brought in. Fumbling to reach the mini-fridge beneath the desk, he managed to get ahold of one of his bottles. Not even bothering to pour its contents into his flask, he simply opened the bottle and lifted it to his lips, taking one long sip, torn between guzzling it down and trying to make it last. More importantly, he needed to soothe his nerves. The blood slid coolly down his throat, a sensation he had gotten used to by now. It wasn’t the most pleasant feeling in the world, nor was blood the most pleasant-tasting drink, but it gave him energy and made him feel more ready to face his teammates. Perhaps he should pay the BLU Medic a visit sometime tonight. He remembered seeing a large refrigerated box that contained many many blood bags aboard the same supply train he had arrived on. Spy was very confident in his abilities to sneak a bag or two from Medic’s supply without being found. As far as he knew, Medic was simply an eccentric doctor who probably needed the blood for… Something. He had heard somewhere that the fluid used to make medigun beams needed human blood to power, and the plethora of blood bags his team’s Medic ordered seemed to bolster that theory. 

 

The bottle clinked as the vampire set it down on his desk. His frazzled nerves calmed, Spy began to look more carefully around the smoking room. Standing, he strode to the long wall of bookshelves. Brushing his fingers against the books, he watched for noticeable differences, trying to see if there is a secret doorway somewhere. You never knew with a Spy’s smoking room: each one had their own unique secrets, ready for each new Spy to discover and add to. 

 

Slowly, Spy acclimated himself to the room. There were several secrets hidden deep in the recesses, beyond the pervasive scent of stale cigarette smoke and expensive cologne (which Spy was dismayed to realize was of the same brand as his own, if not the exact same scent). The first was a sizeable bedroom, large enough to house a queen sized bed and a wardrobe, that was hidden behind a moving bookcase. This was discovered by partially pulling out--in this exact order-- _ The Little Mermaid _ ,  _ Bucky the Vampire Slayer _ (Spy had laughed at little at the appropriateness of this particular title), and  _ 2000 Leagues Under the Sea _ . The second secret was a tiny compartment hidden underneath the bed, clearly hastily emptied. Spy found the remnants of burnt papers, none with any legible writing. There was what looked like a burnt passport, as well as guns and ammunition. None of it was particularly valuable or difficult to find, so Spy simply left it there for further inspection on another, less busy, day. The final secret he found was a drawer with a false bottom in the large mahogany desk. Beneath the false bottom of the drawer, he found little but disturbed dust bunnies, clearly from when the previous owner of the desk had hastily cleared out its contents. Perhaps it had once contained currency, or more passports. Weapons, even. You never knew with spies. The vampire sighed and closed the drawer. He’d have to come up with a few of his own secrets. No doubt each occupant of the room would’ve added their own, knowing that only utilizing the existing secrets was a plan doomed for failure. Spy went about unpacking his things. His many fake passports went into the compartment beneath the bed. A few weapons and his knife collection went into the hidden drawer in the desk. His clothes went into the wardrobe in the hidden bedroom, and the bottles in the refrigerator were carefully organized into groups: full, half-empty, and empty. In Spy’s opinion, there were far too many in the empty group and not enough in the full group. Again, he recalled the many shipments of blood bags that had accompanied him on the ride to the base at Upward. Perhaps if he could track down where they all went, he could take a few unnoticed. However, he would need to arrange for another source of blood as well. Shipments were rare and far between, and not altogether reliable. In addition, whoever was hoarding all that blood would inevitably find some missing. 

 

It would soon be dinnertime. Spy dropped in briefly to tell his team’s Demoman, who was cooking tonight, to not wait for him for dinner. He’d find something to eat later. Turning on his invis watch, the vampire slipped invisibly through the BLU base, keeping to the shadows to stay safe. The infirmary was the best bet when it comes to where those blood bags were being stored away. He paused to let Heavy and Medic pass him in the hallway. Good. That meant no one would be in the infirmary to disturb him during his search. 

 

Finally, he slowly pushed open the door to the darkened infirmary, slipping inside before letting the door swing silently closed. Eyes panning over the room, Spy carefully maneuvered around the various tables and trays strewn around the infirmary, giving it more the appearance of a laboratory than a medical office. A door in the back with a combination lock gave Spy pause. Slowly, he strode up to it, checking for traps as he walked. Up close, the lock appeared to be fairly standard for the passcode locks found at the fortress, and appeared to have been provided by TF Industries. He would have to return soon to carefully dust for fingerprints. That was the main downside of a lock like this: the combination left imprints on the most commonly used numbers. On the other hand, he could also attempt to catch the Medic opening the door, perhaps by planting a camera nearby. If scanning for fingerprints then testing every possible combination with the highlighted numbers proves ineffective, then he would try the camera. There was every possibility that the Medic regularly changed the passcode, which would ruin any chance of him successfully determining which numbers made up the passcode. 

 

Since he was there, Spy decided to take a closer look around. He had yet to be forced into the good doctor’s office, and judging from what he found, he was glad for it. Like most Medics hired by the Mann brothers, the BLU Medic had a penchant for somewhat questionable biological practices. These were only highlighted by the anatomical drawings Spy found in one drawer that featured humans who appeared to have been enhanced in some way, with a specific focus on the new organs. There was a diagram for a man with fangs that Spy noted was eerily similar to that of vampires. Another diagram showed sketches that looked almost like a cartoonist’s concept art of a half-man monster, apparently designed for underwater battle. A paper clipped set of papers appeared to detail the potential creation process for the monster, with Medic’s illegible handwriting scrawled in the margins in black pen. Spy put these papers aside with a shudder and left the file cabinet be. There was nothing else of interest in there, aside from the mercs’ files, which he would have to come back and take pictures of or make copies of. Finally, he examined a cabinet locked with a padlock, which he easily picked. Inside lay an assortment of parts, some of which appeared human, others not so much. One jar featured a wide collection of eyes in all sorts of different colors, floating in a greenish liquid. In another corner lay a deformed skull that was much to small to be an adult human’s. The eye sockets were abnormally large, the jaw too thin, and the teeth looked sharp. Spy didn’t look any further, closing the cabinet in disgust and replacing the lock exactly as he found it. 

 

Satisfied with having found a lead, Spy left the infirmary, glancing over his shoulder one last time before letting the door swing closed. Everything was put back in its rightful place. It looked like no one had intruded at all. The vampire slunk back up the hallway, dodging past the Heavy and Medic again, who had finished dinner and were returning. Medic was excitedly talking about some good news he heard from the Administrator about something settling successfully. Spy assumed it was a business deal, perhaps something to do with research or black market organs. Though he really wanted to pry more, the vampire knew he needed to drink first. Just a small sip should tide him through for the rest of the night. Once he secured a steady supply of blood, he wouldn’t have to be so strict with rationing. 

 

\---

 

The atmosphere in the RED base at dinnertime was the polar opposite of the BLU base’s funk in the locker room. 

 

“Aye, that’s the way you do it!” Demo crowed as he watched Scout do a backflip off of a chair in the rec room. Nevermind they were hyped up on the adrenaline of winning, they were also a bit buzzed. Soldier had thought of the brilliant idea of busting out some beer, which Engineer reflected wasn’t that bad a thing. They could all use a bit of a breather. A successful defense tended to last either no time at all or last the whole day, and everyone was tired despite their excitement. A bit of alcohol never hurt no one. 

 

“Hey there truckie,” a voice sounded behind him. Engie turned around, a smile already on his face as he came face to face with Sniper. The Australian gestured to an empty space on the couch, and the two of them sat down next to each other. 

 

“Good match today, yeah?” the Texan smiled. Since he had already put his yellow construction helmet into his locker, Engie could push his goggles up to rest on his forehead. He rubbed the place where the plastic and rubber of the goggles had dug into his skin. He knew there had to be red marks all over his face. 

  
“Yeah,” Sniper agreed, settling next to Engie with a bottle of beer in hand. “Didja find out anything about this new Spy?” 

 

The stockier man chuckled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. “Ah, well… Seems you were right, stretch. The spook’s French. I’ve got no idea where BLU gets so many French backstabbin’ snakes. You’d think they’d run out after the fifth one.” 

 

“They get’em from France, probably,” Sniper grinned. The comment earned him a light shove on the shoulder. 

 

“Don’t smart off at me boy,” Engie chuckled, though there was no venom behind the remark. “I owe you a week of dishwashing duty for this. Didn’t think I’d lose this badly. What were the chances though, of the BLU snake bein’ French again? Isn’t our Spy English?”

 

The Australian shrugged. “No clue. Can’t really clock the spook.” Engie nodded, sitting back and taking a sip of his own beer. 

 

“Say, stretch,” the Texan began after a brief silence. “You ever hear of folks who drink blood? Maybe a cult in France or something like that?” 

 

Sniper turned to face Engie, his eyes unreadable beneath the orange tinted aviators on his face. “Nah, never heard. Something botherin’ you?” 

 

“Not really, just curious,” the shorter man shrugged, not quite meeting Sniper’s gaze. Sniper gave him one last, long look before mimicking the shrug and settling back to watch the theatrics of Scout and Demo, who were now busy gathering a suspiciously large pile of flammable objects. 

 

“Aw heck,” Engie muttered, standing with a grunt. “I’d best put a stop to that before they blow up the whole base. Nice talkin’ to ya, stretch.” He didn’t wait for a reply before going over to see what was going on. Best to distract himself from the questions he had right now. He’d wait a little before jumping to conclusions. After all, there was no such thing as vampires or zombies. 

 

\---

 

The door to the BLU infirmary opened, laughter in the air as a pair of mercenaries strolled closer. Medic’s eyebrows suddenly furrowed, and he paused briefly at the door. 

 

“Heavy,” he said nonchalantly, gesturing for his friend to precede him. Heavy stepped in first, turning his head this way and that, in a way almost like a bloodhound. 

 

“Someone was in here recently,” the much larger man rumbled, his eyes narrowing. 

 

Medic sighed. “Ah, yes… Of course. I should’ve known it was him. Perhaps I’ll call him in for a checkup tomorrow, hm?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, there are some hidden easter eggs and teasers for like possible AUs/fics I'm thinking about exploring.


	4. Dreams and Desires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Engie and Spy have their fair share of vague dreams, and the day's battle doesn't quite go Engie's way.

Laughter echoed down the hallway as Engineer retreated back to his rooms, a half empty bottle of lukewarm beer in hand. The door to his workshop creaked as he stepped inside. A sentry by the door beeped, registered him as a friend, and continued swivelling in place. His desk was littered with a wide assortment of items from blueprints to scrap metal to writing utensils. Brushing aside a stack of blueprints with one hand, he set the beer down in the newly opened space and pulled up his chair. Plopping down with a deep sigh, he reached for his most recent project, a new design for a sentry gun. It would never get approved of course, but he liked to tinker anyway. It was something interesting to occupy himself while waiting for his contract to expire. Maybe after this, he could work on that solar powered car… 

Yet his mind couldn’t seem to stay on the task at hand. Now that noise of the partying REDs was muted by his workshop door, he couldn’t stop thinking about the BLU Spy. The curious look in his eye, the blood in the flask… Especially the blood. He couldn’t fathom a reason for the Spy to be drinking blood. The best conclusion he could come to is that BLU was more open to hiring crazies than RED, though he thought it was rather amusing for BLU to somehow up RED in terms of finding people with strange habits. For heaven’s sake, Engie was friends with a man who regularly urinated in jars and threw it at his unsuspecting victims. The team doctor probably didn’t have a license, which may have been revoked in an incident involving a man losing his skeleton. A third had a talking sword and a haunted eye socket. Another person was never seen without an asbestos suit on, and who knew what the rest of the team had in terms of strange habits. It was very very hard to beat RED in terms of strange, but while RED team’s foibles were relatively harmless (he was still undecided about Demo’s haunted eye socket and equally haunted talking sword), drinking blood erred more on the side of sinister than silly. 

What man in his right mind drank blood though? If he remembered correctly, drinking human blood made people sick. Someone had published a scientific journal about it after researching the history of a civilization of cannibals. But if the BLU Spy regularly drank blood, he showed no sign of being ill after doing so. This ruled out human blood, at least, a conclusion Engie was relieved to reach. That left animal blood or really really congealed and somewhat discolored red wine. Animal blood could be possible. He knew some cultures drank animal blood or cooked it in soup. Obviously, it could be fake, maybe just intended for intimidation purposes. But intimidate who? Surely even the dumbest of conniving snakes were conniving enough to know that drinking fake blood, while unsettling, was one of the least intimidating things in the book of intimidating things, especially in a place where they saw blood and guts on a daily basis. If he really wanted to scare someone, it would probably be better to brutally rip them into many pieces and stick the pieces into a blender… He was kind of glad the Spy went with the former, if it was an intimidation tactic at all. But it couldn’t be, right? Which meant the Spy had another reason for drinking it, and looking so desperate when it was spilled onto the floor. That couldn’t have been acting, that was definitely a lapse in judgement when the snake’s mind was clouded with panic and adrenaline. He could chalk it up to the Spy being new to the base, if not the war, that bad decisions were made, but… Again, his mind just kept returning to the same circles over and over again, until it felt like he was running his own personal merry go round, on which the rides were blood-drinking spies and snakes with large knives for teeth. 

Seconds bled into minutes which in turn became hours. When he finally glanced at the clock, it was nearly two in the morning. Leaning back, Engie rubbed his eyes and yawned. 

“Guess I best get on to bed,” he muttered to himself, standing with a grunt. Using his chair to steady himself, the RED made his way to his private room, a smaller chamber off to the side of the workshop with a bed and wardrobe squeezed precariously inside. 

\---

Spy found that night that he couldn’t sleep. No matter which way he turned, he felt like something was off. He double, triple-checked the room for bugs and found none, which both worried and surprised him. Either the room truly wasn’t miced or he was simply missing them. All the corners of the room were checked once again for untold secrets, the mostly-burnt passport was examined as closely as possible… Nothing. Sleep just wouldn’t come to him. Every time he looked at the clock on his nightstand, the hands of the clock appeared to not have moved at all. 

He turned over again, turning his back on the clock, hoping that it would make time pass faster. All it did was cause the crick in his back to worsen, which seemed to be a signal for the rest of his body to start acting up. Apparently, being a vampire didn’t stop him from feeling the effects of age that his human body had felt years ago. The Spy hissed and shifted again, falling back into the dent his body had already made in the soft bed. 

Sleep snuck on him in a way that honestly would’ve made him proud, had he been aware of it. 

In the dream, the clock ticked on. Click. Clock. Click. Clock. Drip. Drop. Drip… Drop… 

And then, it wasn’t a clock any longer. It was blood. Blood dripping into a puddle just in front of his face. A set of gleaming teeth, no, two sets. Three. They seemed to simply hang in the air, the pearly white color stained bright red, the individual metronomes of dripping blood pattering each at their individual speed, until the beat was lost and all Spy could hear was the hammering of his heart. No. It was a hammering in his head. On the wall. At the door. 

“WAKE UP, MAGGOTS! NOW IS NO TIME TO BE SLEEPING IN, AND THAT INCLUDES YOU, FRENCHIE!” Even through the wall of the base, the carpeting, the bookcase, and another wall, Spy could hear the Soldier’s yelling and pounding on the door. He groaned and rubbed his eyes. It was almost like he hadn’t slept at all. Running a hand down his face, the vampire picked up his mask and slid it on. He’d have to shower fast, before his teammates woke up and saw him. He grumbled as he grabbed his clothes, threw on a robe, and practically sprinted to the showers, sneaking quickly behind a shrieking Scout and equally loud Soldier. Spy slipped into the showers, taking the single private stall at the very end. 

\---

The Engineer woke that morning in a cold sweat. His dreams had been haunted, that much could be said. He couldn’t remember much of what happened, but he knew there were teeth. Sharp ones. And blood, so much of it, much more than there had any right to be. For some reason, he had the feeling that he had been drowning in it. He shook his head and ran his left hand over his face. The bed springs creaked as he stood, stretching and yawning hugely. The day had just begun, and honestly, he already couldn’t wait for it to be over. Engie stretched, yawning enormously, before going to get dressed and ready to face the day. 

Breakfast was a fairly simple ordeal. The smell of coffee and toasting bread filled the hallway. The Texan meandered into the kitchen to find the coffee pot, pouring himself a steaming mug. Into the coffee went plenty of cream and sugar--and his secret: a dollop of honey--before he went to get bread to toast. 

The other mercenaries had yet to wake, or were sitting groggily at the breakfast table. Engineer arrived with the mug of coffee in one hand and a plate of toast in the other, surveying the table for a decent place to sit. Spy sat alone at the end of the table, already surrounded by a noxious cloud of cigarette smoke as he read the paper. The Frenchman shook out the newspaper and turned the page, apparently engrossed in whatever he was reading. Next to him sat Heavy, who was also an early riser. No one else was at the canteen yet, although from the sound of the footsteps and yelling, Soldier was awake and about to come downstairs. Engie knew he had to act fast and grab a place at the table next to somebody who wouldn’t attempt to ruin his breakfast. Sitting next to Heavy was out, since he always sat next to Medic and would be in a rather sour mood if he didn’t get to sit next to his favorite doctor. Skipping a seat ran the risk of having to sit both next to one of the more rambunctious members of the team and Medic, which could be doubly bad. Usually, Medic had one of two moods in the morning: bright and chipper or mean and grumpy. If he was late, it was more likely to be the latter. If he was early, it was more likely to be the former. Since the good doctor had yet to show up, Engie decided not to risk it and at down next to Spy, his plate and mug clinking as he set them on the table. Heavy looked up briefly from his sandvich, offering Engie a nod, his silent good morning. Engie nodded back. 

“GOOD MORNING, MAGGOTS!” The door to the canteen slammed open, and Soldier stomped in, Scout in tow. 

“Ow, ow ow OW OW OWOWOWOWOW--” the youngest team member yelped, struggling to find his footing as Soldier jerked him forward. “Jeez, Solly, watch it! I just got up!” Soldier let Scout go, standing at attention in front of Engie. 

“Reporting to breakfast! Engie! Is there any coffee left?” he continued in a slightly more muted tone, which was really just going from outright bellowing to a dull roar. Engie, who had barely begun to drink his coffee, nodded and gestured to the kitchen with one hand. “SCOUT! LIKE A REAL AMERICAN, WE SHALL NOW DRINK OUR COFFEE!” Heavy’s facial expression didn’t change aside from a slight tightening of his jaw. Spy raised an eyebrow but also said nothing, just straightening the paper and turning a page. 

Scout grumbled something about being too early in the morning for all this freaking yelling and headed into the kitchen after Soldier. 

“Solly! You’d better not take the last jar of strawberry jam!” 

Engie huffed out a half laugh, half sigh before going back to his toast. 

“Spy?” The Texan asked after a moment. “You done with the paper yet?” A non-commital grunt was his only answer. Another moment passed and the Spy closed the paper with a sigh. 

“It’s still the same news as always. Australians making utter fools of themselves,” Spy grumbled, “Americans doing much the same…” Engie raised an eyebrow at him, but Spy pretended not to see. “See for yourself.” 

Engie picked up the paper, mostly for lack of anything else to do, and began to read. Breakfast seemed to fly by after that, and before he knew it, he was setting down the paper and going to wash the dishes. Of course, all of the other mercenaries had heard of his lost bet with Sniper by now. 

After the third gloating “thanks, Engie!”, he was starting to deeply regret having bet with Sniper in the first place. He should’ve just laughed it off instead of agreeing to the bet, food stains on the plates be damned. 

“Don’t you start, boy,” he grumbled at Sniper, who was the last to arrive. The taller man’s shoulders shook slightly with suppressed laughter. 

“Don’t short circuit on us, Tex,” the Australian chortled. “We still need you today.” Engie rolled his eyes and dunked the last of the dishes into the soapy water before taking them out to scrub. 

“Yeah, yeah… Just go on ahead of me, alright? I’ll be done soon.” 

Sniper leaned against the wall and waited anyway. 

The last dish was soon set into its proper place, and Engie dried his hands on a towel. His rubber glove squeaked under the moisture. 

“Well?” he asked. “What’re you waiting for? Let’s go get ‘em.” Sniper grinned. The pair strolled to the spawn room, chatting amiably as they got ready for the day’s battle. 

\---

“Dispenser, comin’ right up!” Engie shouted for what felt like the tenth time in as many minutes. In reality, it was only the third. He dropped the heavy toolbox on the ground and a dispenser automatically began to unfold itself. Then, he had to jump out of the way of several bombs that flew over his head, ducking behind the wooden building that their Sniper was previously on top of. The ground rumbled with the power of the explosions. The dispenser, hidden beneath the structure by the health pack, remained unscathed, much to Engie’s relief. “Watch it, the BLU Demo’s comin’!” Another explosion got Engie scrambling to the large metal pack. “Could we get any backup here?”

“Our Doc’s dead!” came Scout’s panicked voice from the direction of the bomb cart. “Heavy’s not Respawned yet and ACK--” The sound of a distant gunshot rang out over the bloodied battlefield, taking with it Engie’s hopes of holding the first point. Well, there’s always the next one. He just had to get out unscathed… The Texan gritted his teeth and pulled out his shotgun, abandoning his dispenser to its fate and scrambling up the hill as fast as he could. 

“If anyone else is alive, fall back to the tunnel--” he panted, peering out from behind the crates he was currently sheltered behind. BLU was currently more focused on pushing the cart as fast as they could to the point, so they hopefully wouldn’t notice if he booked it right now… “They’re about to c--URK!” A slender arm snaked its way across Engie’s neck, cutting off his airflow as a sharp pain bloomed in his lower back. 

“Going somewhere?” The scent of cigarette smoke enveloped the RED, making him hack and cough as he scrambled desperately to pull away from the Spy behind him. 

“I--” The retort died in his throat as the knife twisted in his back, a scream tearing unbidden from his throat. He could feel the cold steel warming with his blood, sliding out of his flesh before sinking in again. But this time, all he felt was a crack of lightning in his back, before his vision went dark and his world went cold. 

Spy let the body drop from to the ground, his breaths coming in short bursts. He had seen the Engineer crouching behind the crates earlier, shouting a little too loudly for his dead teammates. Too preoccupied with getting away from the BLUs at the cart, Engineer hadn’t heard the soft scuffing of expensive leather shoes in the dust, nor the faint whoosh of the Spy uncloaking. Just as well. Spy wasn’t one to pass up an easy kill. He shook his head and moved on. 

Or, that’s what he should’ve done. 

Instead, he found his body moving of its own volition, kneeling beside the fallen Engineer. Spy knew he shouldn’t be doing this. He knew he really shouldn’t. Two gloved hands reached down to pull Engineer’s body closer to him. It was the blood, that intoxicating scent, all mixed together with the thirst that gnawed at his throat that made him do this, or so he told himself. He had elected to not bring his flask to the field today, considering yesterday’s mishap during the humiliation round. It wasn’t the best decision, he realized as he watched the blood pool from the two wounds in Engie’s back. One gloved hand gently pressed against the wound, before the vampire flinched bodily back. No, not now, not here. He glanced furtively around, taking another deep breath to compose himself. He couldn’t risk it. 

But no one would see. 

“Time has been added!” the Administrator’s strident voice shook him from his thoughts. Spy forced his feet to move forward, cloaking, and disguising. Move forward. Routine would save him. He tried to ignore the congealing blood on his gloves and his ruined suit with more blood splattered all over the front. 

Engie respawned with a drive for vengeance. That death was dragged out entirely too long, he griped as he jogged out of Respawn. If that Spy showed his ugly mug again, which he inevitably would, the Texan decided he would show that sneaky backstabber exactly the kind of treatment snakes like him got down south. 

Any remaining dark thoughts were quickly shoved aside as he joined the fray again, quickly running to drop a level one sentry on top of the tunnel exit. It was really just a distraction sentry to buy his team some time to regroup. It would distract, direct fire away from his teammates as they respawned, and injure or possibly kill unsuspecting BLUs on the cart. He sprinted as fast as his legs could take him back to respawn, holding onto his hardhat with one hand as he ran. There was a medium ammo pack in front of the base, which he picked up. Once he had enough metal, he began to quickly set up a level one dispenser, hidden around a corner to give his team a place to fall back to. By then, Soldier and Medic had Respawned, with Heavy not far behind. They would make it in time. 

“Hudda hudda!” The muffled voice of their team’s Pyro cut through Engie’s thoughts. The pyromaniac was standing at the stairs behind a small health kit, waving one hand and gesturing for him to come over. “Hurr frrd hrmmph!” 

“You found somethin’, firebug?” the Texan asked, approaching cautiously. He had one hand on his shotgun, just in case. Pyro gestured for him to follow and skipped down the stairs in that loping, skipping gait of theirs. Frowning, Engie followed, pulling his shotgun out as he went down the stairs, cautiously turning the corner. 

Suddenly, he found himself pulled roughly down the stairs, the scent of stale cigarettes and expensive cologne engulfing him as a pair of leather gloved hands grabbed his collar and shoved him against a wall. With a whoosh, he felt the impact knock the wind out of him, leaving Engie gasping for air as his assailant leaned in close. The RED felt the gloved hands tangled in the collar of his shirt pull him forward and roughly slam his head back against the wall. Behind his tinted goggles, he saw stars as his vision swam. He felt a sharp pain blossom in his side and a strange prick in his neck. 

Then, his world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so I originally didn’t intend to move the plot involving these two so early, but i felt like I’d never get to write this scene if i kept putting it off, so… Yes. Unfortunately, it’s gonna be featured in chapter five :^) so enjoy even more filler content with our favorite Texan smart boy. Also if any of y’all are interested in hearing about the ‘weird’ stuff Chinese people eat aside from pig’s blood (yes that’s what Engie is referencing, pig’s blood is considered a delicacy), please ask me. My favorite pastime is grossing out Westerners with stories about Chinese food >:^)


	5. Bitten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spy deals with the aftermath of his slip in self control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHECK BACK LATER FOR MORE UPDATES, I PROMISE MORE WILL COME. I just had to buy some time. Rest will be out by August 28th, so check back then!
> 
> Edit, as of December 7th: well guess who's a big fat fucking liar lmao
> 
> Anyways I finally managed to write the rest of this chapter. I also reworked a few plot points so it's no longer so awkwardly paced (it's for future chapters and adds extra conflict while also giving some side characters a bigger purpose ;0)

The blood on his tongue was hot and tangy. Salty. Metallic. A bit fishy, to be honest. Perfect. The intoxicating smell filled his nostrils, a mixture of the spilt blood and the man it belonged to. He wasn't sure how he got here, but he was absolutely sure that he wanted more. But in this moment, he wasn’t entirely sure how he had gotten here, to be able to treat himself to a delicacy he felt like he had been holding off on for awhile now.

Blearily, he remembered that there was a fight. An open wound filled his vision, or perhaps, it was his vision that only wanted to see it. There was blood everywhere, pouring into his waiting mouth like an impossibly red waterfall. It splattered onto his clothes, his face, his lips, and when he licked them clean, his body reminded him of how thirsty he really was.

Growling slightly, the vampire tilted his head just a little more and sank his teeth deeper into the dying Engineer’s neck. The feeling was electric. Spy faintly registered the distinctive squish-crunch of raw flesh giving way. His tongue pressed roughly against his victim’s neck, tasting salty sweat and dry dust. His sharp teeth sliced easily through muscle, fat, and tendon, though his flatter human-looking teeth had a bit more trouble. He wasn't sure when he had extended his teeth. The day felt like a blur. Hunger mixed with violence never went well. This was a fact he knew very well. He was born during the war, after all, and had his fair share of meals during it.

It was that same almost-feral feeling that overtook him now, flooding the vampire with reckless abandon and pushing rational thought aside. He wanted to hunt. He needed to. His body demanded it. He had been fasting for far too long. Stale blood, small sips, and near-Spartan dieting was a thing of the past. His heart pounded, and his veins thrummed with renewed energy. Yes. This was how he was supposed to be. Alive. Not surviving by sucking old blood that tastes like plastic. No. He needed it from the source.

Spy nearly toppled into the wall when the body of the Engineer was whisked away by Respawn. His teeth clacked together painfully as the resistance keeping his jaw open suddenly vanished. A sharp pain in his lower lip and more warm blood flooding his mouth warned him that the blade-like fangs in his upper jaw had sliced neatly into his bottom lip. The vampire grimaced and forced his teeth to retract, his mind reeling and trying to remember what had happened. It was all a haze--a bloody, red haze.

He recalled killing Engie once before, while he was hiding behind a couple crates. After that… He walked towards the next capture point, taking the route above the tunnel. He had his invis watch on and selected a disguise as he dropped carefully down a side path. His cloak was replenished slightly by the medium ammo pack that he collected on the way to the small building at the very edge of the cliff… With most of RED team Respawning and most of BLU team busy pushing the cart, there was little action. Spy collected more ammo and moved even further, slipping into the basement below RED’s current spawn location.

He wasn’t sure when things went wrong. All of this felt incredibly normal to Spy. Still shaken, he rested his forehead against the wall. The entire sequence of events that he remembered felt incredibly normal. It all went wrong, perhaps, when he disguised as the Pyro to lure the Engineer downstairs. Spy was planning to ambush Engie at the bottom of the stairs, where the team wouldn’t be able to reach him in time even if he called for help. He remembered the clang of that ridiculous yellow hard hat against the brick wall, the slight resistance of those hideous brown overalls against his knife… The smell of blood and desire.

A loud gunshot shook Spy from his thoughts, the vampire quickly backpedaling away from the source of the shot. He fumbled to activate his cloak in time as another shot sounded nearby, ringing in his ears as his gloves slipped against the tiny buttons on the watch. BLU must have finally Respawned and reached the cart after the previous failed push. Aside from that, Spy was already lingering too long: an enemy might stumble upon him at any time.

“Merde--” he cursed, stumbling back against the railing as several explosions rumbled above, the wooden planks above Spy’s head tremble and shed dust. With a faint whoosh, the vampire disappeared, fleeing from the sounds that were suddenly too loud for his sensitive ears.

He had almost forgotten this side effect. After drinking a lot of blood, everything would be too much for him. The sun was just a little too bright, the air was just a tad too dusty, and the sounds were just slightly too loud. It was uncomfortable, grating. Spy hid in another little-used side path, keeping to the shadows as he decloaked. Usually, this effect would go away after awhile, all he had to do was wait it out. He sincerely hoped that no one noticed the slip up he made with the Engineer… This was worse than he could have ever predicted.

Perhaps it was the switch to a new base, or the existence of someone so alluring at this base, that threw Spy off his game so much. He was definitely not some sniveling greenhorn, nor a useless novice. He was a professional. He was experienced, far more than most spies could boast. Experienced professionals do not behave like this. Spy grimaced, touching his mask where it stuck to his face. The blue fabric was stained brownish with drying blood, and was caking uncomfortably against his face. With a growl of irritation, Spy attempted to rub off some of the blood, which came off in uneven flakes and messy globs, only serving to make a mess of his sleeves and gloves.

He would stick around for a week. A week, at most, then he’d ask Helen to switch him someplace else. Either him or the RED Engineer. It was beginning to interfere with his work, and he hated when trivial matters interfered with his work.

The faint buzz from gorging on fresh blood soon wore off, although Spy still felt a little jittery, almost like he had drunk a little too much coffee. Taking a steadying breath, he made his way back towards where the battle was taking place.

\---

Engie woke up in respawn with a terrible headache. A wave of nausea soon followed. Putting a hand to his forehead, he closed his eyes briefly, wishing it would stop, but it only seemed to make the nausea worse.

“Herr Engineer?” a voice called out. Engie opened his eyes, realizing that to most people, he was just standing there with a hand on his forehead. No one could see that his eyes were closed behind his tinted goggles. “What are you waiting for?”

  
“Oh uh--Nothin’ doc,” he replied sheepishly, adjusting his helmet with one hand and bounding toward the door. Best to nip any concerns Medic had in the bud, before he decided that Engie needed a checkup or worse, a completely unnecessary surgery of some kind. “Seems like they’re pushin’ up a bit, so… Gotta go!” He hightailed it out of there as fast as his feet could carry him, leaving a rather bemused Medic in his wake.

Judging from the sound of the battle, it was still far away from RED’s final spawn point, but rapidly encroaching as BLU team began pushing the payload over the rickety wooden bridge that led up to the next point. It was a good a place as any to hold. With a grunt, he dropped down from the ledge that led from spawn straight to the battlefield. Engie stumbled down the stairs, fumbling to get his PDA out from his pockets as a rocket shook the walls around him. Dust tumbled down from the rafters and pitter pattered against his hard hat.

“Hudda huh!” Pyro came charging into the small shack, nearly bowling Engie right over. At least that meant it was the real Pyro, since he heard the squeak of asbestos and felt the impact. “Hurr hurrburburr hrm hurr!”

“You airblasted them all off that cliff?” Engie asked incredulously, a wide smile spreading over his face. He clapped one hand on Pyro’s shoulder as the firebug wiggled with glee. “Great job, firebug. You sure got’em good.” Pyro cheerfully clapped their hands together before they went to heal themself with the small health pack located a little ways behind Engie. This was great news, actually. With most of the BLUs having fallen to a nasty, painful death, Engie had a little extra time to set up all his buildings.

“Sentry, goin’ up,” he called, stepping out into the sun and dropping the heavy toolbox on the ground. A sentry slowly began to deploy itself as he jogged off to the right, towards a medium ammo pack. His metal supply replenished, he set about busying himself with erecting the rest of his buildings.

“Erectin’ a dispenser!” he called out again, dropping a second toolbox on the ground. All was well and peaceful until over the sound of clanging metal, he heard a rapid pair of footsteps and a whoop before a gunshot rang out, a few bullets lodging themselves in his barely-built dispenser. His sentry gun, which was just level one, beeped and attempted to lock onto the incoming BLU Scout, but it was too slow. Peeking quickly around the corner, the BLU Scout was able to evade sentry fire long enough to sink a few good shots into Engie and his dispenser.

“Dadgum twitchy little--” he grumbled, brandishing his shotgun as he waited for his wounds to slowly heal, courtesy of his dispenser.

“Too slow!” the sound of the BLU Scout’s voice came to him from around the corner. “Guess your machines ain’t as great as you think they are, pal!”

Gritting his teeth, Engineer cocked his shotgun, ready for when the Scout inevitably peeked around the corner again to take more potshots at the RED and his buildings. A blur of blue flashed from around the corner and the Texan fired wildly, squeezing the trigger of his shotgun like his life depended on it. His efforts were rewarded with a pained yelp as a few bullets sank into the BLU Scout, whose rapidly receding footsteps signalled that he was now retreating back to nurse his newly acquired wounds.

“Serves him right,” Engineer grumbled, leaning against his smoking dispenser as he reloaded the clip of his shotgun. Holstering it, he whacked the dispenser a few times with his wrench to repair it before going to find more metal to upgrade his sentry with. Rinse. Repeat.

\---

The battle that day ended with a win in favor of RED. After their encounter beneath the forward RED spawn, the BLU Spy had seemed a little distracted. Off-kilter, so to speak. Of course, RES took full advantage of the near-dead weight on BLU team to secure an easy win. They would get a bonus on their paychecks for their performance that day for sure, Engie mused happily. He still felt a little woozy from earlier, though. Ever since the BLU Spy attacked him, he hadn’t quite been feeling himself. Maybe it was just a coincidence, and Respawn did what it did to upset his stomach and ruin his day. Nothing unusual but still highly irritating.

“You feelin’ alright, Truckie?” A quiet drawl sounded from behind Engie as the Texan was gathering up his plates to deposit in the kitchen sink.

“Holy mother Mary--” he jumped, nearly dropping the plates. “You gotta stop sneakin’ up on me like that, stretch.” An instinctual laugh bubbled up from his lips. “One day it'll getcha hurt.”

A toothy smirk widened on Sniper’s lips as he pulled his hat down a little over his face. “Haven't yet,” he replied good-naturedly. Engie rolled his eyes from behind his goggles, then rolled his eyes again but with an exaggerated head motion to signify that he had just rolled his eyes.

“Don't be smart with me, boy,” he warned jokingly. “Y’here to gloat some more or what? Thought that was more Spy’s thing.”

“It is,” Sniper shrugged, falling into step beside Engie as they made their way to the kitchen sink. Already, there was a large pile of dirty dinnerware ready to be scrubbed. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You're lookin’ a mite pale there.”

“O-oh, who, me?” Engie asked with a too-wide grin, feigning innocence. “Nah, I'm fine, don't worry. Just peachy.”

Sniper didn't look very convinced, but didn't press any further to Engie’s relief. Even so, if Sniper had noticed, his other teammates were also bound to notice. Maybe a good night’s sleep would do the trick. His personal projects could wait another day, he supposed, personal wellbeing comes first. Besides, with the world spinning around him every few minutes and his stomach threatening to commit a violent revolution against his body, he figured he probably wouldn't be able to concentrate on his work anyway. A lack of concentration could very well mean death. One wrong move and boom. All progress gone, probably a limb or two if he's lucky. If he's not, then probably a slow painful death and another terrible trip through respawn. Considering respawn was the most likely cause of his current predicament, risking going through it again may just make things worse. Engie didn't like his chances for that.

After a few more moments of silence, Sniper left the kitchen to do… Whatever Sniper did in his spare time. Engie never saw the need to pry. He'd share his secrets when he wanted to.

When the dishes were finally finished, the pounding in Engie’s head had crescendoed to a din that he simply could no longer ignore. After rummaging around in his bedside stand for painkillers, the RED performed his nightly rituals and went to bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I admit, I kinda fucked up the pacing a little. I'm not happy with how I had to write the bite scene several chapters earlier than I originally planned. Although I feel like something important like this /had/ to happen at some point, since Chapter 6 is also gonna be an important plot point, talking about how Spy would infiltrate Medic's supply of blood bags. Well, at least, chapter 6 is gonna be about Spy dealing with his blood supply problem. Right now, it's the last thing on his mind bc he's full of Engie's blood lmao


	6. Unsettled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sniper realizes that something's not right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEFORE I START THE ACTUAL AUTHOR'S NOTES PLEASE READ CHAPTER 5 IN ITS ENTIRETY (new content starts at "Engie woke in Respawn..."). I updated it but it doesn't actually give y'all a notification, and I wanted to keep the chapter number and the chapter titles like sorta congruent. 
> 
> Happy Holidays everyone, and merry belated Christmas to those who celebrate! In light of the holidays I saw fit to uhhhh literally crank out like 3k words in 3 sittings, so yep, here we are. My update schedule kinda died as soon as I went to college, so sorry about that, but chapter 6 is done, and I already have a pretty solid idea for chapter 7 (which is really just a worldbuilding chapter but it'll enlighten you on some of the things said in this chapter and some of the things that are gonna be said in later chapters). I can't believe I'm past the 5 chapter mark on this fic tbh, I didn't even think I'd pass 3, but here we are. 
> 
> Also, fun fact, the Tribalman's Shiv is apparently a customized kukri made out of reddish brown wood (according to the tf2 wiki). The more you know...

Sniper left the kitchen with a frown hidden behind his glasses. Waving off the advances of Soldier (“COME PLAY POKER, KANGAROO MAN”) and Scout (“Hey Snipes, Snipes, Snipes, check out this awesome new comic--”), the Aussie moved out of the base and into his camper, situated a short distance away from the main building. Sliding open his door, he flicked on the lights--a bare bulb hanging by a wire--and slouched deeper inside, making his way to the small block-like bed that also served as a storage unit when opened from the top. A large variety of rifles, SMGs, and large knives were hung up on one wall, while the other was dominated by a mini-kitchen. Leaning against the wall were two bows, one wooden and one compound, complete with a quiver of arrows.

Sniper passed all of those weapons, cursing quietly as he navigated through the cramped cabin of the camper van. Flipping up the top of his bed, he dug his hands inside. First, there were several clinks as he pulled out a few jars--some empty, some not--which he set down next to him in whatever spare space he had left over. Next, Sniper fished out a bundle of pipe-like objects, each one just small enough to be held in one hand but too cumbersome to hide easily on the body. The third set of items he pulled out comprised of two small, handheld crossbows with a quiver of matching bolts, each one made of wood and honed to a sharpened point. Finally, he pulled out a small book, worn around the edges and held together by a combination of twine and sheer determination. This item was tucked into his vest as Sniper stood, picking up the other items he had taken out. The empty jars were placed back into their places, while two were picked up. The RED held them up into the dim moonlight that trickled in from the grimy windows of his camper, squinting at the clear liquid that sloshed around inside. It wasn’t the freshest or strongest ever, but it’ll do. A few of the very rudimentary flashbangs were picked up and tucked into his belt, the rest joining the jars back under Sniper’s bed. With two grunts, he loaded the crossbows and slung them carefully over his back. It wouldn’t do to be caught off guard. As the finishing touch, he strode to his extensive knife collection, picking out one in particular. The wood was sharpened and reinforced, made of some of the hardest wood found in the world. Its serrated edge worked well enough in his daytime battlefield, but at night, it had other benefits. Sniper clipped the knife’s sheath to his belt before pushing the door to his camper open. Although he had no idea how bloodsuckers had managed to get all the way out here into the desert, he had definitely seen signs of recent damage on Engineer. Although his friend apparently didn’t notice, Sniper did see telltale signs of a recent bite. Bruising, swelling, reddening… All present on Engie’s neck, just under the collar. If it weren’t for the fact that Sniper had gotten so close to Engineer earlier (and the fact that he towered over his Texan friend), he doubted he would have noticed. Perhaps that was why his other teammates didn’t say anything. Plus, Engineer looked somewhat paler than usual, and had seemed distracted--confused--based on the way Sniper ‘snuck up’ on him despite not doing anything to mask his footsteps. Either way, Sniper would get to the bottom of this. No leech was going to get the better of him or his teammates.

\---

“But _why_ , Madame?” Spy asked exasperatedly. “Why can this reassignment not be arranged? His presence is severely impacting--”

  
“Just _make do_ then, _Spy_ ,” the Administrator hissed over the intercom. Spy groaned internally, but gritted his teeth to prevent an actual groan from leaving his mouth. This really was not going the way he wanted to. The communications room was cold and clammy, lit only by the flickering screen that the Administrator was communicating through.

“Now,” she continued, “If you have nothing better to do than complain about how incompetent you are, I’m ending the call.” Without really giving Spy a chance to respond, the screen fizzled out, leaving nothing but static behind. The vampire let out an audible groan, rubbing his temples from over his mask. This meant he had to find some other way to solve his little problem; the RED Engineer. That day’s battle was awful. Not only did Spy feel off from having just fed, but he also felt especially jumpy around one of the men he was supposed to target. Sure, he could just go and stab the RED Sniper, but after a few successful kills, the Australian had wised up and fights between them became longer and more bloody with each altercation. The Heavy and Medic duo were always guarded by the RED Pyro, and every time Spy tried to stab anyone else on the team, they simply outmaneuvered him with some crazy explosive jump or another. There really were very few other choices but to go after the Engineer, but after having gotten a taste, it felt like his vampirism had taken on a life of its own. He hadn’t felt like this since he was a starved fledgling with dull teeth and duller instincts, chasing after the dregs of blood his older coven members left behind for him.

Of course, he could just _talk_ to the RED Engineer. That was the best way to solve problems, usually, especially ones that involved some form of communication error (Spy firmly believed this was exactly that and nothing else). He knew that especially in his profession, good communication amongst enemies could very quickly blow his cover, while bad communication between allies could easily send him to his death. In this case, however, it was difficult. He could hardly stroll up to the Engineer tomorrow and say, “Just so you know, I am a vampire, and you smell delicious, perhaps we could find some kind of agreement to not fight each other?” He also did not currently have access to a steady supply of blood, which was significantly impacting his ability to resist the urge of sinking his fangs into the nearest living organism that bled red.

Still grumbling to himself, he jabbed the off button on the panel and slouched out of the communications room, making sure to cloak before he stepped out into the hallway. Besides, he had other business to attend to, namely getting into Medic’s supply of blood. If he could do that, he could most definitely solve at least half of his current problems.

A quick trip back to his smoking room, one bug, and one fingerprint dusting kit later, Spy squatted invisibly before the cabinet, a small slip of paper in one hand and a pen in the other. To the casual onlooker, it would seem as if the pen and paper were moving of their own accord. To the more observant, the slight slight shimmer of a gloved hand could be seen operating each utensil.

The lock was a very standard Mann Co. issue lock, and Spy was quick to determine from both the position of the fingerprints and the wear on the inked numbers that Medic did not regularly change the combination of the lock. In fact, it was likely only changed once (from 1-1-1-1 to whatever it was now). Squinting closely at the keypad, Spy slowly wrote down the numbers, making sure to double check he had dusted the right ones.

3, 4, 9.

The three looked a little extra worn, so it was entirely possible that the three was a duplicate. Anyhow, since there were only three digits, and the standard Mann Co. keypad locks were usually locked with four numbers, it was reasonable to assume at least one of the numbers was a duplicate. Spy groaned. That just made his life harder. He would have to return to his smoking room with that information to figure out all the combinations, then return to test every single one of them. What a pain.

Instead of subjecting himself to that pain (that would be his backup plan), he used a set of tiny screwdrivers to partially dismantle the lock, sliding the bug underneath. The bug would track which buttons were pressed and when, all of which would be broadcast to a small receiver that Spy kept in his room at all times. The receiver would then record the sequence and automatically destroy the bug, although Spy would have to retrieve it manually at a later date. It was hardly the most efficient system he could use, but it was all he had at the moment that came short of manually testing every possible combination. Carefully, Spy replaced the panels he removed and made sure to gently brush off every bit of fingerprinting dust that he used. Standing up, he took one last look around the room to make sure he didn’t leave any trace of his presence behind. 

\---

Not long after Spy vacated the infirmary, Medic and Heavy came back. Again, Heavy paused in the center of the room, head raised and eyes closed, sniffing the air. The pair moved slowly to the back, where Medic’s desk and rudimentary office area was located.

“He was here again, wasn’t he,” Medic noted, stating the question more like a fact than an inquiry.

“Yes,” Heavy replied solemnly. “Can smell, even if human. Like cigarette and cologne.” Medic just nodded absently and went to examine the refrigerated cabinet where he kept all his blood bags. Perhaps he would have to change its place. That Spy was getting oddly nosy… But at the same time, perhaps it was nothing. It was in a Spy’s nature to want to get into places where they don’t belong. Medic simply had to make sure there was nothing in there that would arouse suspicion. A fake set of notes detailing the creation of medigun fluid using different blood types would suffice. Although… If he didn’t need the blood for other purposes, he would definitely consider that experiment. There were components of blood in medigun fluid, after all. Perhaps different blood types would result in different healing rates… Anyways, all of his truly important notes were hidden away somewhere safe, far away from the prying eyes of a single Spy.

Satisfied with his analysis, Medic sat down at his desk with Heavy situated on a nearby cot and pulled out a pile of paperwork. Seeing that Medic was now settling down to work, Heavy fished out his reading glasses and a small book that looked even tinier in his large hands, and began to read. The night continued with no further interruptions.

\---

Elsewhere on Upward, a very tired and disgruntled Sniper trudged back to his camper. There was no sign of a vampire off base. None of the dark crevasses in the battlefield yielded results, and there was no sign of anyone living anywhere besides where they were supposed to live (Sniper aside, that is). This meant that the vampire was among them, which was arguably worse than having one (most likely under 150 years old, or it wouldn’t survive in the desert sun) running rogue. All of them were put into Respawn, so killing the vampire could be nigh on impossible. Aside from that, who knew if the Administrator would even let Sniper kill one of her precious mercenaries at all? She was entirely a wildcard, and Sniper wasn’t close to her like Spy was, or important like Medic or Engineer. People in his daytime profession were dime a dozen if you look in the right places, although ones that survived as long as he did were rarer. He snorted and shook his head at the irony of the statement. Being an assassin was his _day job_ while he moonlighted doing, well, this. Running around following every lead he could. When RED had hired him, they mentioned something about “both” his professions being “potentially important”. Of course, he had no idea until now that there could be vampires among the ranks of RED and BLU. But, now that he really thought about it, why wouldn’t there be? RED and BLU prided themselves on being able to find the strangest and most skilled mercenaries. Reasonably speaking, some of them would be vampires, and with the vast informational networks that RED and BLU possessed, it was highly possible they knew of the existence of vampires. It was even possible that they were connected to a few of them. Redmond and Blutarch did, after all, have extraordinarily long lifespans. Sniper didn’t know the details, but he was pretty sure the brothers should have died at least sixty years ago. Either way, it was none of his business. He just had to do his job. Both his jobs.

As Sniper walked, the sun’s first rays began to peek over the horizon, the sky slowly changing from blue to purple to pink and orange. The sunrise in the New Mexican desert was always nice. The air had yet to heat up, but there was more and more light to see by. A light in base had already turned on, most likely Soldier who always woke at the crack of dawn. Sniper wandered back to his camper, stifling another long yawn. Coffee was always his best friend on days like this…

\---

Engie woke up that morning feeling slightly better, but still worse for wear. Although his head had stopped spinning every time he tried to move, he looked pale and his legs felt like they were crawling with ants. The RED shuddered and went to shave. Thankfully, although his left hand and feet were freezing and shaking just slightly, his right hand was steady as ever. The wonders of technology and all that. At least he didn’t cut himself too badly… Pausing, he squinted at himself in the mirror. On the side of his neck, there was an ugly, black and blue bruise, purpling around the edges. Twin red lumps glared angry red back at him. The entire injury was roughly in two small crescent shapes. Curious and very mortified, the Texan ran a finger gently over the injuries, wincing as he felt twinges of pain when he pressed too hard on accident. It looked like the bruises were fading though, for the most part. How the hell did that get there? It looked like he was recently molested by a tiger who was recently chewing on rocks. The other surprising thing was that Respawn hadn’t taken that away. That was the most curious part. Engineer knew that Respawn was supposed to generate a new body using the remains of the old (that was why body parts disappeared from the field when Respawn got to work), but it usually got rid of recent injuries… And this mark _had_ to be recent. Someone must have given it to him during battle, since he didn’t notice it yesterday morning, and Respawn didn’t see fit to remove it. The worst part was that it was just sitting out there for the world to see, and although his uniform did include a collared shirt, he almost never buttoned it up all the way. Maybe this was why Sniper was being all nosy last night. He must have seen part of the bruise, and if Engie was as pale then as he was now… Well, it just didn’t look good. He groaned under his breath and moved to the dispenser he always had set up in his workshop in case of emergencies.

The healing fumes of the dispenser washed over him and Engie sighed softly, relaxing against the cool metal. A quiet hum emitted from the dispenser at over several intervals, almost lulling him back to sleep. To wake himself up, he tested the bruised area again and was pleased to discover that it didn’t hurt anymore. So healing that did not involve Respawn did work… It had to be something that altered the fundamental structure of his DNA or something crazy like that. As ludicrous as it sounded on paper, Engie honestly wouldn’t put it past RED or BLU to have something crazy up their sleeves. There were exploding books, spells, ghosts, giant haunted eyeballs… Strange bite marks were the least strange thing to ever happen to him since he joined RED.

After a quick check in front of the mirror to confirm that yes, the mark was indeed gone, Engie trundled down to the mess hall to get some breakfast. Soldier was, of course, already there, along with Scout and a very tired-looking Sniper. In fact, out of all of them, Sniper looked the worst off. No amount of healing or caffeine could mask the signs of an all nighter.

“G’mornin’ y’all,” he announced, giving the trio a half-hearted wave. Scout absently waved back, and Soldier sent a salute in Engie’s direction. Sniper barely reacted. Engie’s brows knitted together, but he waited to ask until he sat back down with a plate of bacon and toast.

“How’re ya feelin’, stretch?” he asked quietly, placing a hand on Sniper’s shoulder. “Somethin’ keepin’ ya up at night?” Sniper blinked blearily and reached up under his glasses with one hand to rub his eyes.

“Yeah… It’s nothin’,” the lanky man replied. “Just a long night. Couldn’t get to sleep.”

Engie sighed in sympathy and took a sip from his mug of coffee. “No kiddin’--I swear if I weren’t so tired from yesterday, I’d be up all night too. Tinkerin’ and all that.” Sniper shrugged in response before he downed the last of his coffee.

“Oh uh… Just one more thing,” the Australian said as he stood. “Did’ja see anything weird yesterday? Teammate lookin’ funny, maybe?”

Engie raised an eyebrow. “Well, ‘sides from you, nope,” he replied. “‘S there somethin’ fishy goin’ on?”

“Nah, nah--” Sniper quickly shook his head. “Just wonderin’. See ya later, truckie.”

“See ya, stretch.” Engie waved to Sniper’s back as he slouched out of the mess hall, turning a corner to head for the resupply room. They’re gonna be starting soon, Engie realized with a start, and if he didn’t finish his breakfast fast, he’d be fighting while digesting, and that was just a recipe for cramps.

It was only when he was picking up his things that Engie remembered the unusual behavior of the BLU Spy. Could that be what Sniper was looking for? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a race!!! Who will get to Engie first, Sniper or Spy? It's just one giant rivalry triangle now I guess lmao, but I finally think I know what direction I want this fic to go in.


End file.
